


Having Walked In Darkness

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Gen, Sisters, return from Mandos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: Late in the First Age, Findis gets a very welcome surprise. Perhaps the luck of the Noldor is turning...





	Having Walked In Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/gifts).



“You only get _one_ ‘I told you so’.”

Findis turned from the bookshelf behind her desk, a small stack of books in her hands – and promptly dropped all of them at the sight of the woman standing just inside the door of the office that had once been her father's.

“You…” she croaked, the color draining from her face.

Irimë sprang forward.

The hands that helped Findis back to her chair were gentle and concerned, but above all undeniably _real_.

The door banged open hard enough that it bounced.

“Findë? What’s wrong?”

Findis’ distress had brought Elemmírë running to check on her.

 Elemmírë halted in the doorway, nearly as shocked as her mate at the sight of Irimë.

“But you’re dead,” Elemmírë protested weakly.

“I was,” Irimë agreed, with every appearance of cheerfulness.

“I… I will leave you two to talk, then,” Elemmírë replied after a long and rather awkward moment.

She left, closing the door firmly behind her.

Irimë looked from the now shut door to her older sister, who was looking more her normal no-nonsense self.

“You’ve already had _my_ news,” she prompted.

“Elemmírë and I were wed two years ago,” Findis explained, her voice growing surer as she spoke. “Had we known you would return so quickly, we would have waited. I certainly would have wished to have you at the wedding.”

Irimë looked slightly guilty.

“It must have been a very small ceremony,” she said quietly. “Only Ara and Ammë for you.”

“You forget our other sisters. And it was not so small. It was a royal wedding, after all. People get quite excited about those, and to have two in such a short time gave Tirion a much wanted reminder of better times.”

“Who else married?” Irimë asked, puzzled.

Findis caught the thought not smothered hastily enough – _who else was left?_

“Ingo and Amarië,” Findis replied. “They married one year to the day after his Return.”

“He wasted no time,” Irimë said with a laugh that was Tirion of the Trees and would take some getting used to in Tirion under the Sun.

“No, it was she who wasted no time,” Findis replied, a touch more grimly than her sister had expected. “She’d learned her lesson.”

“I’m sorry,” Irimë said quietly.

She’d heard in the bitterness underlying Findis’ response the pain of all the years of waiting – the shock of sundering, the agony of hoping and _fearing_ , and finally the burning grief of unmistakable loss.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It didn’t go as we intended. It wasn’t _at all_ what we thought.”

She waited, expectantly – and longer than she would have thought.

“I told you so,” Findis finally said at least, her voice more a croak.

“You did, and like a fool, I didn’t listen. But at least I did _some_ good there.”

“Tell me,” Findis commanded, rising to her feet – and there was no mistaking the voice of not just sisterly, but royal authority. “We have heard precious little of what the years brought to you in Beleriand besides death. But there was life also, and I would hear of it.”

Irimë flung her arms around her sister, wrapping her in love and apology. Findis returned the embrace, and steered them to the couch, where years ago as children they’d sat many an evening to tell their father of their day.

“I cannot claim to have done much in the battles of Beleriand – I acquitted myself well enough at the Battle Beneath the Stars, I suppose, but nothing worth wasting breath on telling, not when it was no more than anyone else did, and less than Aryo.”

Findis patted her sister’s hand, and there was both comfort and encouragement in the gesture. Irimë almost cried, because she hasn’t had that in years, not since she fell into the trap of Turvo’s secret city. She’d always had to be the older, reassuring one from then on.

“I stayed with Nolo at first, doing my best to help, to smooth things over between his children and Naro’s.”

“Only his and Naro’s?” Findis asked, one eyebrow raised. “In that case, the Ice mellowed Artë and Ango greatly.”

“Artë was sent to her great-uncle Elwë almost at once,” Irimë explained. “Seeing as she’d made no bones about her intent to kill Tyelko from the time Nelyo handed her back to Ara on. And Ango’s boy married one of Elwë’s grandnieces with rather unbecoming haste, so he and Aiko stayed some years with Elwë as well.”

“That’s one form of diplomacy, I suppose,” Findis remarked wryly.

“Oh, Resto wasn’t the only one to marry one of Elwë’s kin,” Irimë burbled, her eyes twinkling.

“I’m afraid Ingo’s already robbed you of the element of surprise,” Findis said wryly. “Eärwen is brokenhearted to have missed the wedding. And, I should warn you, rather desperate to hear all she can of her daughter and law-son. So far as we can make out, both yet live.”

“Yes, well, I’ve a word or two for her, seeing as it’s Artë’s fault I ended up stuck in Ondolindë for four hundred fifty years!” Irimë sniffed.

“Oh? This part I haven’t heard,” Findis prompted.

“You wouldn’t have, if Ingo’s the only one to return so far,” Irimë explained. “He couldn’t have known anything of it.”

Findis gestured for her to get on with the tale.

“Artanis and her brothers were banished from Elwë’s kingdom Doriath when he learned the full truth of Alqualondë,” Irimë began. “He also banned the speaking of Quenya, and they had to bear that news to Nolo’s seat near Lake Mithrim. Everyone was furious about it, of course.”

“I can imagine,” Findis snorted. “And I’m sure those who hadn’t bloodied their hands were not happy to hear they were to suffer for Naro’s idiocy _again_.”

“That may be a slight understatement,” Irimë replied with a not entirely pleased smile. “At any rate, Elwë rubbed Ara’s children’s noses in it by sending other messengers after them, to be sure they’d actually brought the news as commanded. Ango and Aiko were livid, and went north to Ingo’s fortress at Tol Sirion.”

“So far I’m not seeing how this leads to you getting stuck in Turvo’s city, much less it being Artanis’ fault.”

Irimë shot her sister a look that combined a playful glare with a touch of surprise.

“I remember you being far more patient,” she marveled.

“You aren’t the only one who lived all those years, little sister,” Findis reminded her. “Nor am I the only one you will find changed.”

Irimë accepted the caution with a nod.

“With her brothers gone, Nolo was responsible for Artanis, who I should mention was newly married, and Elwë had kept her husband in Doriath.”

She had to pause for Findis’ gasp of horror, for that was a level of malice unheard of among the Amanyar – and if he knew of this, Findaráto had not mentioned it.

“Turvo and Irissë were already gone to his secret city by this point, so well hidden that none of us had the slightest idea where they were. Ingo had a secret stronghold of his own, but wasn’t quite so cagey about keeping the whereabouts of his kingdom from the rest of us. We knew it was somewhere to the south, just not precisely where. So when Artanis snuck out alone, we were unsure if she was making for Ingo, or going north to join Ango and Aiko. Nolo was beside himself, panicking at the thought of what might happen, and whether we’d ever find out if she was safe or not.”

Findis could easily imagine that, particularly with Nolo’s own daughter beyond his sight or knowledge.

“He sent out searchers in all directions. Lauro and I were among those who went north, hoping to find her making her way to Tol Sirion. Our party fanned out once we reached the meeting point of the rivers Lithir and Sirion, since we were unsure what route she might have chosen. I thought in her shoes I would cross Sirion at once, and follow it up its eastern bank, for it was all but certain that Nolo would be looking for her, and if she were found anywhere short of her brother's fortress, she’d be brought back to Nolo. But foul weather drove us into the mountains, and we ourselves lost our way.”

Findis could hear her sister’s unvoiced doubts about that storm.

“We were found by Turvo’s border guards, who brought us to his secret city in a lovely hidden valley. He made much of us, and welcomed us with great warmth. It was only when we were in private that he broke the news that we had no choice but to stay, for it was his rule that all who found the way hence must remain, to preserve the secret.”

Irimë paused, as much to calm herself as for breath, for while she might have forgiven in the Halls, she hadn’t forgotten her anger.

“There was no forcing the point, not when he had fifty-five thousand followers and I had only three besides my son. Lauro and I were to be part of the nobility of Ondolindë, and there was little I could do but accede as gracefully as I could manage." She paused. "I may have a few words for Anairë as well.”

“Go gently there,” Findis murmured. “She’s lost too much.”

“It will keep,” Irimë shrugged. “At any rate, as the king’s aunt, I was of course accorded a high place, as much responsibility as I liked, and very little to do that was in keeping with my original purpose in going to Beleriand. There was nothing I could do to fight Moringotto from Turvo’s hideaway. And he insisted on my staying behind the one time he marched out to battle, though he didn’t mind taking my _son_ with him.”

Irimë sounded quite fierce about it, and Findis couldn’t help shudder.

“Oh, don’t worry, Lauro survived what the bards styled the ‘Battle of Unnumbered Tears’,” Irimë sniffed. “Only to die fighting off one of Moringotto’s horrors as we tried to escape the death trap Turvo’s hidden city became in the end.”

“You’re rather more composed about it than I expected,” Findis ventured cautiously.

“I suspect he wasn’t going to survive that day no matter how it played out,” Irimë admitted with a sigh. “I had plenty of time to think about it afterward. Lauro’s people insisted he join the group of us going with Itarillë, trying to escape with the children. I think they hoped they were saving him. Instead, he was the strongest warrior left when the valarauco set on us from behind. Egalmoth and Tuor had taken point, and Galdor was already injured. It was good of the Golden Flowers to try.”

She laughed mirthlessly.

“Though I must admit I was much more bitter about the whole affair before I died myself, doing something similar. I understood it when it was my turn – when you are the only thing standing between children and death, you don’t think, you just _do_.”

Findis’ grip on her hand tightened.

“Have you heard that story yet?” Irimë asked cautiously.

Findis shook her head.

“We knew you had died,” she said quietly. “But not how. It’s rare for us to be told how, for anyone. We knew for Ingo because Ara and Amarië both dreamed it. And of course, he's back now to tell us.”

“Kind of Irmo to share _that_ ,” Irimë said drily. “If he could manage to spread the story of Ingo’s death, he could have shown Ammë or Ara about me. Not that it was anywhere near as dramatic. When what was left of us from Ondolindë arrived at the havens of Sirion, I made it my business to look after Itarillë’s boy, and when he was grown and married, I looked after _his_ boys. _Someone_ needed to teach them more about the Noldor than ‘kinslaying fools’.”

Findis was shocked speechless at the notion that princes of her brother’s line would be taught to look on their own people as kinslayers.

“There weren’t all that many of us left, Findë,” Irimë explained gently. “And Itarillë herself had tried to return by then. I don’t suppose she had any luck?”

Findis shook her head sadly.

“The only way any return is by the grace of Namo and Irmo.”

“I suppose Itarillë will have to content herself with that route as well, then,” Irimë sighed. “At any rate, I was one of the last of our people in Sirion, for most of them went on to Balar. But I wasn’t going to leave a pair of toddlers to be raised only by Sindar who would teach them their father’s people were fools and killers. So there I was when our nephews came seeking their Silmaril.”

“A _Silmaril?_ How did it come to be in Sirion?” Findis demanded. “We have heard _nothing_ of this!”

“It was the one Elwë’s daughter snatched from Morgoth,” Irimë told her drolly. “It came to Sirion with her granddaughter. Our fine nephews had failed to regain it once before, though they destroyed what remained of Elwë’s kingdom as well as his grandson in the attempt,” Irimë explained flatly. “I would never say so to Nerdanel, but we may have to accept that they will never return, Findë.”

“Have they become so terrible as that?” Findis asked quietly.

“They destroyed Menegroth, and then they came for its refugees in Sirion,” Irimë replied, her voice steeped in regret. “We hid Eärendil’s boys – Itarillë’s grandsons – but I was caught on the way to their hiding place. I wasn’t about to save myself at the expense of two six year olds.”

She shrugged, and her sister tried to fill in the rest.

“Surely it wasn’t the boys themselves?” Findis asked in dismay.

Irimë’s laugh had once made dim rooms sparkle, but now it was as capable of carrying darkness as light.

“It wasn’t Nelyo or Kano or Pityo themselves, no,” she assured her sister. “But it was swords sworn to their service that killed me, and fellow Noldor of Tirion or their children wielding them. And I should remind you that you’ve already had your ‘told you so’.”

“There’s no need, for I haven’t the heart to say such words anymore,” Findis said sadly, pulling her baby sister into a comforting embrace. “We can conceal this from their mother for now, and from ours as well. But not, I fear, for very long. You are among the first to return, not the last.”

She sighed, and kissed the top of Irimë’s head. Irimë, for her part, was content to remain in the quiet sanctuary of her big sister’s arms.

“I am glad you are back, little sister,” Findis said.

She just barely heard Irimë’s whispered ‘so am I.’


End file.
